You JUDICIOUSLY WHIP OUT Babe Ruthless. Judiciously, like the JUDICIAL SYSTEM OF AMERICA. But you digress, even though you're not sure what that means. You proceed to cut into Desert Eagle Man's shoulder in an effort to extract the shrapnel, which isn't that big but you know, from basic medical training (which you've picked up from drive in Hammer-Horror movies) that it's still a nasty wound. You cut around it, biting into the flesh, scraping against bone.
"I will cut things because I am America."
A small amount of blood dribbles out, then spurts out, strongly, getting you rather covered in blood, before subsiding to a dribble.
"I have the authority to do this because I am America."
You quickly dig the metal out. Okay, no, this is bad, there is blood all over the damn place.
"I am America and also first aid and hippos and things."
All over the place, oh no, you have no idea what you're doing, this is oh no.
"And so can you."
Desert Eagle Man has died from shock, lacerations and blood loss. But at least you are an African water dwelling mammal with huge teeth! You grab the body and drag it back, further into the bank. It looks like the door to the area behind the teller's windows is open, and the people outside appear to be mustering for another assault. You have a bit of time.
What do you do?
Wearing:
Mask of Sensibility
Sensible pants, stained with blood and secretion
Blood stained sensible shoes
Inventory:
Wallet ($90)
Wrist Watch (12:28)
Valium (too much)
Scum
Sock ($1000)
Colt 45 (0/0)
Backpack (5 clips - Thompson) (Rations - unAmerican (4))
Water bottle (full)
Thompson (average) (30/3)
Wielding:
Wielding - Babe Ruthless (both hands) (PATRIOTIC) (proficient) (bayonet) (covered in blood)
Mental State:
Oh God, I just killed this guy, oh God oh Jesus oh fuck.
[The Valium(?) goes some way to dulling the shock of the moment. Be warned - killing an ally will have profound psychological effects.]